Stake Your Claim

Mark 15

It always baffles me when someone asks, “Who killed Jesus?” It is one place where scripture speaks surely and directly—we all killed Jesus—all of us—sinner, saint, and skeptic. There are the Temple authorities, condemning him—i.e., the pinnacle of the religious. There is the crowd demanding his blood—i.e., a gathering of everybody if there ever was one (watch a crowd form at a public spectacle—see if it doesn’t draw a little bit of everybody). There are the soldiers deriding him—i.e., the outside observers with no real horse in this race. There is Pilate who adamantly refuses to intervene—i.e., anyone with power who chooses not the exercise it. There are Jesus’ followers, some helpless to do much of anything, others scared witless, who still do nothing—i.e., sometimes even friends watch a friend go down in flames. Everybody is there. Everybody is responsible. Everybody.

But that’s the point, isn’t it?

One of the core proclamations of our gospel is that Jesus died for the world—everyone; coupled with that other foundation stone—Jesus died for sinners to claim them as children of God—and that, also, is everyone. Reread John 3:16—this point is right there.

There is no human being for whom Jesus did not die because there is no human being who did not and does not require it. But there is also no human being whom God does not claim as God’s own child, seeking to draw them back from that abyss.

I attended a downtown worship service that was an eclectic gathering of souls. There were urbane professionals. There were families. There were college students and children. There were single adults and adults married so long it defied imagination. There were folks fresh off the street, the backpack carrying the entirety of their worldly possessions slung over a shoulder. There were folks who looked like there had been days when they felt better, and there were folks who I hope had their annual physical that day because they would have gotten the cleanest bill of health ever. We were all there, all represented by someone. 

We sat there beneath the cross. We shared communion.

And here is where Good Friday’s message is inescapable and should never, ever be skipped to get from one party (Palm Sunday) to the next (Easter). We took communion because we all needed communion—all of us—every single one of us. Without having to make a great show of it, each of us in that sanctuary knew our need for communion. Every one of us could have listed the ways we failed to measure up to the love God requires as we go through life. We cut our spouse off right when she needed to say what was on her heart. We missed completely someone’s request for help, lost in our own cares. We dismissed a child without hearing what they had to say because it had been a stressful day. We had really ugly thoughts about a coworker. We had even uglier thoughts about the jerk in the Cadillac who decided the middle was the best part of the road. We couldn’t be bothered; we simply didn’t care; we ignored the mistake we made; we kept someone from getting what they needed; and on goes the list of reasons why we needed communion. 

What we tend to dismiss as well is that each of these reasons why we need communion is why we were there when Jesus died. Whether we see it or not, each time we act without love—intentionally or unintentionally—we divide ourselves from God who loves us each and every breath; and we divide ourselves from someone—a relationship is broken for that time. It is that division, both vertical and horizontal, that led to Jesus’ death. 

That is the truth of Good Friday.

We cannot blame someone else, passing off our responsibility to whomever happens to be there. The responsibility is ours—all ours.

Now, here is the miracle of this day—as we claim that responsibility, we clear the way for the miracle of Easter to claim us. 

So sit wth the cross today. We put it there. We used it for the purpose for which it was built.

Admit it.

God hears; God knows; and God intends to do something about it.

See you in two days…